Instead of laying out my clothes to be packed in my travel duffle bag, I am staring at the computer screen with watery eyes, ready to start typing. Waiting for the words to come to me, I struggle to compose my email, and my thoughts drift away for a moment. My next eagerly awaited trip was two weeks away. I’d been planning it for three months, though truth be told, it had been brewing in my mind for a solid decade. Airline tickets were booked and a convertible Mustang would be waiting for me when I arrived in Austin. I envisioned myself cruising, top-down, through the roads of Hill Country at the peak of the Texas wildflower season. With a cliché country song blaring on the radio, I star in my own movie, the camera pulls wide as I drive on into the horizon.
The Texas Hill Country in the spring is the Superbowl for wildflower lovers. Field guides and textbooks paint a kaleidoscope of colors along fields and rolling hills, as far as the eye can see, looking like the spilled paint colors of a mad artist. Ever since I fell in love with chasing wildflowers in Arizona, seeing the Texas wildflowers has been a dream of mine. So, as I struggle to find the right words for this email, it feels like a piece of my heart is breaking. This will be the saddest email I will ever write.
As I sit safe and quiet in front of my computer, the outside world is coming unglued. People hoarding baking flour, sugar, and masa have left large open bare spots on Walmart shelves. Neighbors are sharing rolls of toilet paper because there are no more left to buy. California and New York scrambled as they become a hotspot for sickness and hospitalizations. We watch the news and watch our leaders for answers. It all feels surreal. Should I stay, or should I go, I wonder. Is this bad, or is it not? I don’t understand. I don’t know what to do.
The world is canceled. Shopping canceled. Concerts canceled. Weddings canceled. Everyone canceled. And now, I was too. I don’t want to cancel. I don’t want this to be happening to my world. I’ve experienced major earthquakes, major bodily injury, and the death of a loved one. But nothing in my life has ever given me a more sinking feeling than this. My heart ached for the world.
Finally, as the words in the email to the bed-and-breakfast owner materialized on the screen, the reality of the pandemic touched me, hurled me, and beat me. I never thought there would be anything in this world that would stop me from flying, after winning the fight against aerophobia. I never thought that my generation, my lifetime, would experience a worldwide tragedy. I never thought businesses would just stop being businesses, with a sudden halt in customers. I never thought that being outside and among others would be unsafe. Are my fellow bed-and-breakfast guests facing the same dilemma? Are my fellow wildflower enthusiasts staying home, too? Is everyone staying home?
Yeah, it’s best not to fly and travel right now.
And so, the saddest email in the world was sent.
